Deaths
by outlaw author
Summary: Looking back, I am surprised at how easily Robert of Locksley died. NOT a deathfic technically, despite title and summary.  You'll just have to read to find out why!


**A/N:** I had sort of a Tolkien time in writing this one - meaning the first sentence just came to me, I wrote it down, and then took awhile to get the rest out. And the ending took even me by surprise, but Robin Hood was speaking and who am I to say him nay?

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Looking back, I am surprised at how easily Robert of Locksley died. Given how painful – mentally, emotionally and even physically – the birth of Robin Hood was, it stands to reason that Robert of Locksley would not have gone quietly.

And he didn't. Not at first.

At first, Robert of Locksley refused to believe that he was dying. He refused to believe that the world could be so cruel as to kill him in his youth. Robert of Locksley was still rather naïve, you see, and in that naïveté he foolishly thought that the rest of the world was just as idealistic as he.

And so, even though he tried to hold onto his lands, he did not try as hard as he might have because he believed that the others would see that he was in the right and would give up their claims. It was because of this that, at the age of nineteen, he was left alone in the world with no parents, no land and his ideals in tatters.

In that moment, Robert of Locksley died, and Robin Hood was born.

Robin Hood, who mourned the loss of innocence that was the death of Locksley but who was practical enough to realize that it could never have survived that new life in the greenwood anyway. He would occasionally reminisce about the freedom of his youth, but it was a fond kind of reminiscence without bitterness.

Locksley was dead and would stay dead. Now lived Robin Hood.

Robin Hood who, though still idealistic, was also realistic enough to recognize that the world did not necessarily share those same ideals. He robbed the rich to feed the poor in an effort to spread his ideals, or at least to keep his country from hurting for the lack of them.

Then came the King, and with a gentle tap of his sword on each shoulder, he sentenced Robin Hood to death and gave life to the Earl of Huntingdon.

I would've thought that Robin Hood would be glad to exchange his outlaw life for the life of an earl.

And he was. At first.

No longer could he be captured and hanged on sight. No longer would men hunt him for a reward. No longer must he fear for his life and the lives of his men. No longer would his days be so uncertain or his nights fraught with apprehensive wakefulness.

But Robin Hood was made of more than just the title of outlaw which he bore. He had been forged in hardship and had lived in freedom, roaming the forests he called his own. He was a man become used to following his own heart, to doing things because he thought they were right, not because the law required it. He was a man become used to speaking his own mind, to adamantly defending just causes, not to guarding his tongue in a game of political intrigue.

Robin Hood was not so easily killed; he was instead locked away inside the Earl.

And so while the Earl of Huntingdon loyally and nobly strove to serve his King in London, the part of him that was Robin Hood was stifled and suffocating. He was as a wild animal caged, a bird whose wings had been clipped. But Robin Hood had thrived under oppression before, and tenaciously clung to life as the conscience of the Earl.

Each wrong righted, each charitable act performed, all were done at the prompting of Robin Hood. The Earl of Huntingdon became known for his mercy and benevolence, for his defense of the common folk, and many wondered if he had ever truly been the cut-throat outlaw he had been made out to be.

But the Earl of Huntingdon too was trapped, his capacity to do right limited by his duty to the law, and there were so many more injustices that he just could not fix. And all the time Robin Hood was there, whispering to him that more could be done, that more should be done, and with each wrong left un-righted, the part of him that was Robin Hood grew louder and stronger and more insistent.

Until he woke up to the realization that he had never truly been an Earl, but that he had always been an outlaw.

And so, my liege, I regret to inform you of the death of your noble, the Earl of Huntingdon, and am left to console you with the news that I and my merry band of men shall once again be taking up residence in our forests. I look forward to that day when humble outlaws such as myself shall not be needed to perform the duties of the lawman and remain forever -

Loyally England's,

Robin Hood

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**A/N:** Well, now that you've read it, I'd really appreciate knowing what you think, especially since I'm not quite too sure how I feel about it myself yet!


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